


feels like flying

by soulofme



Series: we’re living in the moment [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: i'm falling for you. (are you falling for me?)





	feels like flying

Quarter to twelve. Rooftop. Night sky, tiny city lights. Drunk couple stumbling home. Husband leaving his wife after an argument. Interesting, kind of. Not enough to keep his attention, though.

He crushes peppermints between his molars and feels how the fragments get stuck between his teeth. Flavorless. Just like chalk. There’s a can of soda between his thighs. Orange and flat, can soaking the heat from between his legs. He slides his pinky around the rim and lets it get caught in the tab. Tugs experimentally and tries not to be surprised when the tab follows him up.

He flicks the tab over the side of the roof just as a warm hand squeezes around his shoulder. A comfortable, familiar touch. Marco.

He turns his head and looks at him, really looks at him, and sees a boy who has nothing to say. Marco offers him a smile then. Not unkind. Not too kind. Something neutral.

“Heard about this afternoon,” Marco says, easily sliding into the space next to him. Almost like he belongs there. A torturous thought. “I’m sorry, Bertholdt.”

“Thanks.” Seems like the right thing to say.

Marco nods, and something nasty and bitter pulls at the edges of his lips. A frown, where there used to be a polite smile. Bertholdt doesn’t expect to miss it.

“Can I be honest?” Marco is always honest, but Bertholdt doesn’t say that.

“Yeah.”

“I think she’s missing out,” Marco says, leaning in like he’s telling a secret. Maybe he is. No one has ever said that to him before. “You’re a catch.”

“Am I?”

“Sure,” Marco says. Bright eyes and a smile. Genuine, this time. Too kind. “Are you kidding me? You’re the best.”

The best. Huh.

“Oh.”

Marco shakes his head in disbelief. “You always let people rule over you.”

“I guess so.”

“I wish people would give you a chance,” Marco adds then.

“People do.”

“Not nearly enough.”

He lets that sink in. Marco thinks he’s worthy of something as valuable as a chance. Isn’t _that_ a thought?

“I wish you’d stop letting people change you,” Marco continues on, as if he’d never stopped. He sucks in a heavy breath and snags the flat soda from between Bertholdt’s thighs. “I wish you could just be you.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Marco says. Narrows his eyes and takes a big sip of the soda. Shakes his head again. “ _Sure you can_.”

“Why do you even care?” Bertholdt asks. Can’t stop himself, really.

Marco gives him a flat look for all of ten seconds before he grabs him around the collar. Tight fists around his shirt and lips pressed against his. Marco doesn’t taste like much, really, or smell like much either. But he feels like fireworks in the summer and warm tea in the winter. Blooming flowers in the spring and crisp air in the fall. He feels like everything beautiful and wonderful in the world, something Bertholdt wants to hold close and hide away from everyone else.

“Because you _matter_ to me,” Marco stresses the words, punctuates them with a softer kiss. A brush of lips that sends Bertholdt’s entire world into a tailspin. “Because I want to care.”

Because I want to care.

It’s a simple enough answer. Doesn’t mean Bertholdt gets it or really thinks he ever will. But that doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is Marco, a gentle presence at his side. Someone special. Bertholdt’s never really had someone like that before. Now’s a good of time as any, isn’t it?

Now’s the time to enjoy this, for however long it’ll last, because maybe he _is_ allowed how to have nice things. And, hey, Marco’s pretty damn nice. This whole thing could be nice, he knows.

“Okay,” Bertholdt finally croaks out, and Marco smiles bright enough to drown out the city lights below them.


End file.
